Breaking Even
by Itanohira
Summary: "I want to make you fall in love." Spamano, Friends with Benefits!AU. Vague plot, mainly PWP. Complete for now.


**Breaking Even**

Summary: "I want to make you fall in love." Spamano, Friends with Benefits!AU. Vague plot, mainly PWP.

Note: Idk reading fanfiction excites me, but sometimes writing it just isn't as fun anymore. Expect less from me. Updates will come, probably. I think I write too many cliché-y stuff. Also, there's a lot of tense mistakes, but I'm really too tired to fix anything, really. This is pretty unorganized and very snippy, but it did catch my attention long enough to write and finish. Also, smut.

-x-

Lovino is a mess and so was their relationship (if you could even call it that, he thinks bitterly, green eyes burning acid as Lovino kneels between his legs), and he… he was worse.

Antonio wishes he could write himself a letter and send it to himself February last year so that, maybe (hopefully, wistfully, brokenly) his relationship with Lovino could be saved – maybe, Lovino could be saved too. His thoughts break here as Lovino does a little hum, and his fingers bury into the Italian's hair a little bit more, tangling deeper into his auburn locks.

Those slim fingers slipping up and down and down and up and down, down, _down_, were sin on his flesh, and he _loved_ and hated this fucking mess they were in, 'cause he knew that after this, their relationship would never be the same. Not when they were like this. Not when their friends mistook them for a couple when they _fucking_ weren't and _God_ couldn't they see how much he burned for that to be true?

He remembers his red face on February 12th of last year, asking in that shy voice, his slender fingers buried in his shirtsleeve. "_Why don't we be more than friends?" _And that was end of that as soon as Antonio had said _yes_ a little too excitedly, a little too hastily, and if he knew what would have happened maybe he might have said no (or maybe not).

But all of this goes away, leaking down the drain and down Lovino's throat when Antonio grunts, buries his hands in Lovino's hair _like this_ and Lovino is soon pulling back, taking back his mouth and warmth. The Italian's eyes are cooling like molten gold, shining and dull all at the same time, and Antonio can't help but think that he looks impossibly handsome, like this. Antonio holds a hand out for him, and Lovino takes it; the Spaniard pulls him up and wraps his arms around his smaller frame.

Antonio feels his arms tremble slightly; he hopes Lovino can't feel it. Lovino is still, frightfully so, until there was a firm press against his heart; Lovino pushes away, with a quick wipe to his mouth. Antonio's feels his throat tighten at the shiny fluid leftover on the back of his hand.

"Tomorrow, at this time?" Lovino asks, mouth in a soft line. Antonio manages a weak smile.

"Sure, Lovi." Antonio reaches out to ruffle his auburn hair, but the other ducks back, almost shy in his quick steps away. When he glances up again, hazel eyes piercing into Antonio, Antonio could not help but feel that maybe there was a hint of vulnerability in the Italian's usually fierce eyes.

"Okay." Lovino murmurs, and with flighty steps and a hushed goodbye, Lovino is gone from his heart and home.

-x-

"Lovino." Antonio can feel the young man's heartbeat flutter against the beat of his own staccato heart. It's a chilly morning – the window is cracked, slightly, just enough to let in a gentle draft. The soft chirping of birds can be heard from the branches knocking against the window glass, and all Antonio can feel is Lovino, pressing _just so _against him, bare body firm and warm against his own tanned skin.

Lovino's eyes were closed, but the way his breath came out uneven told him that he wasn't asleep. Antonio smiled, fingers coming up to brush against his cheek. "Lovino, wake up."

Lovino's eyes opened, slowly, but he wasn't really smiling. Antonio continued to keep up his crumbling smile, feeling as if he had taken Atlas' burden onto his own shoulders. His chest felt a little tight – perhaps he had the burden right on his torso, slowly getting suffocated underneath this love.

Antonio cleared his throat, one arm curling around Lovino's shoulders as they laid, face to face. "You want breakfast?"

Lovino shook his head and gave a soft sigh. "I just wanna go."

"…Oh." Antonio said. Somewhere, deep inside, he hated how disappointed he sounded, especially when there he shouldn't have been disappointed. Not when he was the one who agreed to this mess. "Okay."

Lovino pushed his arm away, and slipped out of the bed. Cool air rushed under the blanket, and although Lovino had carelessly pushed the blankets away, Antonio could not manage to bring up the simple strength of pulling them back.

"I'll… see you tomorrow?" Antonio manages, his voice coming out unexpectedly weak. He clears his voice, and his finger twitches.

Lovino absent mindedly brushes his bangs back, something Antonio remembers, with a dull pang, a habit Lovino did when he was nervous. "Yeah, sure."

-x-

"I love you," he wants to say, his throat burning like his heart, a pile of smoldering ashes ready to be swept away by the tempest that is Lovino.

Lovino grunts, however that is normal, because currently, he is being pressed against the wall by Antonio. "Don't stop," Lovino murmurs into Antonio's ear, back arching off the chilly surface of the wall. Antonio has one hand holding up the slipping leg wrapped around his slim hips - his free hand, placed on the Italian's sharp hip bone.

Antonio doesn't answer his earlier demand; his eyes are closed, _concentrating_ on the feeling of Lovino, imprinting the way his heart thuds loudly into his mind.

"Don't," Lovino murmurs again, voice thick, short nails gently running up and down the hard planes of his back. Antonio complies, and lets the hand that had previously rested on Lovino's hip to trail up, resting against the small of his back, guiding him to press against his body.

"I won't," Antonio managed to whisper, his voice deep and rough. He pressed his face into the crook of Lovino's neck, further pressing the Italian between the wall and his own form.

And even as he finished inside Lovino, he could feel his heart wobble and tilt along with his unsteady breath; he still tried to keep it back, the burning sensation rising up in his throat, and perhaps he feels just a little bit disgusted with himself.

But not Lovino. Never with Lovino.

Lovino let out a shaky sigh, soft and breathy and in Antonio's ears it rang with a breathless satisfaction; the boneless feeling of letting go. The young man pressed himself against him, skin sticky, eyes closed.

"Again," Antonio felt Lovino's voice vibrate into his skin. Lovino doesn't hesitate to repeat himself. "Again."

The Spaniard feels a shudder go down his spine – an involuntary reaction to the way Lovino looks at him when he lifts his head from his broad shoulder. "…Again?" Antonio repeats, mind numb.

Lovino's eyes narrow, but Antonio knows he bears no ill will for him – it's the way he is, in his guarded, scowling, beautiful way.

"One more time." Lovino says, and Antonio shifts slightly, carefully; he's still inside Lovino. His arms tighten around the Italian's frame when Lovino lets out a tired little sigh, shifting his slim hips against Antonio, trying to rouse him, to get him going again. "Come on," he murmurs, hips never ceasing to shift and grind and _move_.

Antonio leans forward, letting out a soft grunt; he presses Lovino against the wall, presses their hips impossibly closer and whispers something in mangled Italian, something Lovino probably taught him long ago, once upon a time, and he _moves_.

-x-

"My friend, my dear Antonio," Francis murmurs over the porcelain rim of his mug. Its early morning - Antonio's finger twitches when the wind blows and the old oak tree's bare branches tap against the window. Francis had cracked it open earlier, and the sound of birds singing find their way into the Frenchman's modest kitchen. Antonio's finger twitches.

Francis lets out a quiet hum, a pitch somewhere between a knowing, understanding tone, and annoyance. Antonio looks onto the table. "This isn't healthy." A pause.

Francis sets the mug down onto the table without a sound. Antonio looks up. "You can't just," The blond man's eyebrows press together as he pauses mid-sentence, trying to find the right words, the tactful words. "This... relationship you have with Lovino, it's not healthy." Francis probably could see that he wanted to refute his claim, and began to talk again, cutting off whatever Antonio had to say. "You _look_ healthy, healthier than you've probably ever been, but sometimes," Francis gives him a look, as if trying to remember something far, far away. "I feel like you're different. The way you act."

Antonio closes his eyes. He thinks of Lovino, bare and pressed against the wall. His finger twitches.

-x-

Lovino is above him this time - _Let me do all the work_, the Italian had said.

Antonio kept his eyes shut, perhaps in pleasure or maybe in disbelief - even after a year and a half of this mess he still couldn't quite believe it. Lovino rolls his hips steadily, thin fingers holding Antonio's wrists down as he rode the man.

The Italian is sitting on him, making sure there's no room for Antonio to shift his hips up, up into the Italian's warmth, into him. "Do you like that?" Lovino murmurs as he lets out a little shudder at a particularly deep roll of his hips; the way they move and shift against him was maddening - the Italian never went lifted his hips from the Spaniard, choosing to torture him with slow movements that had him sliding back and forth on his lap. Lovino looked down at him, eyes dark and half-lidded. "Antonio."

Antonio manages a short, tight nod - his heart is a little fluttery, yet he hears it thunder in his head as he watches Lovino with sharp eyes. His throat becomes dry, and he swallows thickly, murmuring something he himself can't quite understand.

Lovino begins to move a little rougher, bringing his hips up a little higher, a little bit hastier; his grip slips on Antonio's wrists, and Antonio is able to remove his hands from Lovino's pin, letting his hands trail down to Lovino's hips and lower back. The thundering in his head gets a little louder, and his breath hastens, because Lovino is here, and Lovino is handsome, and even if the man didn't love him at least Antonio could let himself go and pretend that maybe this man wanted more than just benefits.

Quick, like the beat of his heart, Antonio wraps his arms around Lovino and pulls him down against his chest, bringing his hips up to press into the young man. "I love you," Antonio murmurs, and as soon as it leaves his lips he knows his mind regretted it - but his heart didn't. Lovino lets out a harsh gasp into his ear from the hard, fast thrusts suddenly being plowed into him, and his fingers are pulling, tangling into Antonio's dark, wavy hair and grasping at his shoulders.

"I love you," Antonio says, a little louder, braver, although he still doubts Lovino hears him, and he pulls Lovino down, deeper and deeper still, pressing his hips up and grinding deeply. He rolls them over until he's on top, never stopping his quick thrusts, pressing his lips against Lovino's and he's never felt this close, never felt so in love before in his life, never with anyone so perfect, never.

Lovino pulls his head away, eyes closed and mouth open, gasping for air, noises loud coming out every so often in between his breaths.

Antonio can feel himself getting close, that oddly familiar heat pooling deep, coiling tight. He tilts his head to catch Lovino's lips again pulling back only to murmur, "I love you," and dipping his head back down to steal another long kiss from soft lips. His thrusts slow down, and Lovino's legs tighten around his hips, Lovino still doesn't say anything, except for the occasional flighty gasp that leaves his mouth when Antonio thrusts out of rhythm, fast and deep and irregular.

And suddenly his pace regains some sort of rhythm, deep and fast and furious, hips slamming into Lovino's; Antonio's breath came out harshly, thickly, and he felt himself come so close - Lovino himself was writhing, legs tightening and slipping as they tried to stay wrapped around his hips, crying out everything but Antonio's name.

"I love you." Antonio murmured, shallowly thrusting as he came, grinding his hips against Lovino's own.

-x-

When Antonio woke up and saw an empty spot beside him, he knew Lovino had heard him.

He spends the day listlessly laying in bed. The window is still cracked. A breeze comes in, gentle and cold, making goosebumps rise on Antonio's skin. The tree outside rattles with a particularly strong gust, and the tree limbs shake and quiver, gently tapping on the window. There are no birds, no chirping, no noise this morning. Antonio's finger twitches.


End file.
